Constantine: The prequel
by Lindewe
Summary: John recalls his past, how he ended his life and began another. Pre-movie, based on what I saw. And yes, Beeman, Chas, Midnite and Father Hennesy will be in it.
1. CONSTANTINE!

Things don't really get interesting until around chapter thirteen, when I actually remember how to keep someone interested, so bear with me...

--John cradled his head in his hands. He shouldn't have had that drink. He couldn't suppress the memories anymore. They beat around his skull in an incessant drumbeat. _Chelsea..._ No! Goddamnit. He wasn't going back that far.

_Midnite! _A child's voice echoed through the past, ripping his thoughts in two.

"NO!"

Someone was beside him now. Holding him.

_Angela..._

That was safe, he breathed a sigh of relief. That was safe. But again that desperate cry rang out again in his head. That pleading tormented cry.

_CONSTANTINE!_

"NO!" He screamed again. "I-I-I didn't mean to!"

_CONSTANTINE! _

_It was dark, it was always dark. John Constantine ran through the streets, chased by the devils only he could see. Fifteen years old, with a new black trench coat, now slick with rain._

_Midnite was in, he was always in. _

_John stopped in front of him, gasping long breaths in with terrible hacking coughs. But Midnite stood there, his hand was holding something. _

_John let out a sigh when he saw the small backpack that the tall black man had in his hand. _

_"Please..."_

_"I can't John. I am eternally in balance, you rocked that boy." _

_Without another word he threw the pack onto the street and disappeared back into the noisy club._

* * *

_"Midnite!"_


	2. Ravenscar

He knew he was mad. He knew the wings were hallucinations, but he no longer cared. He lived for the next dose, counting down the hours before the pills arrived. And then they would strap hijm down onto a gurney, put a bit in his mouth and electrocute him until he lost consciousness. Three years of hospitalization had only made him worse. After Christmas he would be moved again.

His mother and father stood outside his door, looking at him through three inches of bulletproof glass, like some rare specimen at a zoo.

He hunched over rocking on his bed. Today was visiting day, an hour of his parents watching every move he made and then a trip to Doctor Ralluns office where he would sit in silence while the "Good" doctor would poke and prod him, and then ask him some questions.

Minutes passed slowly, but half an hour early his door opened and two men in white scrubs stepped in.

One he saw had black orbs for eyes and half his jaw was gone exposing sharp teeth in a double row, like a shark.

He screamed and backed away from the shark man, only to be caught by the normal nurse.

John reached for his parents. They stood their in horrified silence, watching their son subdued. John screamed again, his voice hoarse from making the familiar sound. "No they-re here! Mum, help me! NO!" He kicked, bucking his whole weight against restraining hands. "NO!"

He fell to his knees as the guard twisted his arm.

"Uh.. Surely you don't have to be so rough." His father said weakly.

The thing holding John grinned, the boy bucked again screaming for help.

"Where are you taking him?" His mother asked.

"Ravenscar"

Even his parents gasped at the name. Nobody ever came out of Ravenscar. It was run by the church, but at some point people had been murdered there.

John just screamed louder, dragging himself from his captors. "Dave shut the kid up."

The last thing a fourteen year old John Constantine heard was the weak protests of his father.

He awoke in a strange room. Instead of the familiar clean whiteness of the ceiling, red and gold fabric burned into his eyes.

He kept them open for as long as he could, letting the bright colors dissolve into a teary blur. He swallowed the vibrant life and closed his eyes before real tears came. He knew he was in Ravenscar that was all.

John wondered briefly if his parents would come to visit anymore. Probably not. He had a sister. Struggling to remember her name, he sat up. Chloe? Carrie? Something with a "C". He had never seen her before. She must be...what? Three? Four?

There was carpet beneath his feet. For once his feet weren't cold. But he didn't notice. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He had a sister... What did that mean? Why did he suddenly care? Bewildered he felt a pang in his stomach.

Doubling up he gasped. The pills, Why hadn't he had his pills? He reached out and grabbed something hard. He looked up, a writing desk sat near the window. He stumbled into the chair in front of it.

A little while later, the stomachache passed and he could breathe, but he had a headache. He looked blearily at the papers on the desk. They were scattered across the desk in little heaps. On the foremost pile was a small drawing of an emaciated man screaming on a withered cross.

_Our savior_

That sounded familiar, was he Christian? He didn't like the drawing, he placed it face down on the rough wood and looked at the second paper.

**Deceased**, the first column read. Aandross, Robert. The first name read. And in thin spidery handwriting on the column next to it was. _Gunshot wound to the head.  
_Next came Aferton, Steve. _ Blood loss, slit neck._

The list went on and on, detailing how thirty-six boys and one girl had died. Mostly in violent, nonsensical ways.

Houser, Christian, _internal bleeding._

Bryan, Alex, _shock, ripped own eyeballs out._

And release dates were in the next column, and then funeral dates were highlighted. They were released before they died?

Fifteen names were left, and the second name from the bottom was

_Constantine, John_

The door opened

It was a priest. John had seen them on the movies that the patients were sometimes shown. But this priest was emaciated, awkward and his eyes always seemed to be popping out of his head.

John didn't like him.

"Come with me child." he said, flicking his white scarf around his neck. White. It reminded John of where he was. Who he was. John timidly nodded at him.

"Don't be afraid. My name is Brother McCormy, we will see more of each other, but I need to take you to the initiation."

He obeyed ducking his head as he passes the strange man. All asylums had this. They would strip him, make sure he had no sharp objects, give him a short cold shower and send him mto the room he would be staying in for the next year. _A year in this place? _ What were the letters, the numbers, the dates, _the names_?

He didn't know what he had found, but the names echoed around in his aching skull. _ Aferton, Steve. Aandross, Robert. Bryan, Alex...Constantine, John._

He came to a complete stop in the hallway, cradling his head in his hands. The priest stopped as well, and looked down at him in concern. "John?"

"I need pills." John managed to gasp out. Leaning against a wall, he was starting to see the things, there was one coming down the hall toward them.

Gasping he closed his eyes, _It's not real. It's not real. It's not real._

He repeated it over and over and over again, chanting it until he felt the presence pass. A stench of rotten meat followed it down the hallway.

"I can see you don't like Brother Andrew." The priest was watching him from across the hall, something seemed to be bothering him, but he quickly shook it off. "You won't get any pills, I'm afraid. We don't allow any sort of drug in the hospital."

He moved on with John gaping after him. They couldn't do that! A year without pills. He would die. That was no understatement.

He hurried after McCormy.


	3. Punishment and Learning

They walked through endless corridors, passing doors with windows, staring in on long haired patients in straight jackets.

John remembered his own straight jacket. He had tried to attack a thing once. It had found it's way into his cell. In the end it had just turned out to be a nurse to give give his pills, But they had made him keep the jacket on for the next three days. He had hated it.

The patients stared at them hungrily. John moved closer to McCormy, It felt strange being on the other side of the glass.

The priest laughed at John's expression, "These are the incurables, but don't be alarmed, they are quite harmless."

John nodded silently and turned his face away from those desperate eyes.

"We have several other boys here, about your age.

He kept his expression neutral but the priest seemed to sense his disquiet. "It is no matter, you do not have to join them if you do not want to."

They walked on in silence for a few more minutes. John was tiring fast, he had not had any cause to walk for any extended time in years.

Just when he felt on the edge of collapse, he was pushed through a doorway. He looked back to McCormy who gave him a kindly smile.

"It's all right, Brother Lawrence will take you from here on."

Even though McCormy had helped him, and had outwardly been polite and comforting, John was not sad to see him go.

Brother Lawrence was not quite what he had expected. He was kind, and John liked him. They talked of family and books while The Brother took his temperature and wrote down John's blood pressure.

He was beginning to think that this place might not be so bad.

He was led down yet another corridor and through a dank smelling room to where yet another priest was waiting. Instead of the showers there was a table in the center of the room.

John walked inside and cast around for a chair. This must be his mental evaluation.

There was no chair.

The door swung shut behind him and two burly men stepped out of the shadows.

It was then that John started to notice the details. The table had shackles. Now he was frightened. Mirrors went from wall to wall, angled perfectly so that it looked as if it was just him and the priests and the ghastly table. A world of blank reflections. It was deathly cold, searing to the very marrow.

'B-brother Lawrence?" John stuttered, looking up to the only familiar and kind face.

"Relax John, this will only take a second." He motioned to the table, but John backed away.

Right into the waiting arms of a brutish man.

It was worse than his visions because this was real, this was unknown. John had grown up with the hallucinations and dreams but people...

He had no experience with people.

He wanted to scream but his voice couldn't obey him. He wanted to fight but his arms were numb.

He couldn't see what they were doing now, tying him down, fixed to that table. He calmed at once, feeling the familiar pressure, they were going to shock him, he had done that many times. But no bit was placed in his mouth.

The priest had taken something out, a book.

_What?_

"I need something to bite on."

It was so weak, it barely sounded like his voice at all.

"Oh don't worry about that, were not going to shock you.

He was about to ask what he meant but Lawrence had started to speak, waving his hands over John in complicated signs

For a few moments John felt nothing, and then the pain.

It was like nothing he had ever experienced, burning and slicing, breaking and tearing. Someone was tearing apart every molecule in his body, searching for something. Every bad memory he had came to the surface of his mind, every ungodly, sinning thought of sex to suicide went racing around his skull.

He couldn't hold it in any longer, he screamed and beat his knuckles against the headboard behind him.

The pain stopped, leaving behind a strange half image burned into his head, himself, reflected on the ceiling.

He could hear whispers behind him, vague and faltering.

"Even worse than the rest-"

"...Crazy"

"How can we tell?"

He stared at the reflection above him. He was so thin, like a skeleton with too many ribs. His cheeks were thin, eaten out by pain, madness, and malnutrition. His hair was thin but smooth.. A clean black. A contrast in light and dark. Black hair and eyes and pale, sallow, white skin.

For a moment he was reminded of that man on the cross, in the room with the names. So thin, and in so much pain.

He passed out.

He woke up again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. The ceiling was white again. He sighed in relief. It was a dream, a dreadful dream, and it would fade by the time he got up.

He relaxed, his muscles were screaming in agony but he was past noticing. He barely noticed anything anymore. He was barely human. He thought drowsily.

A head popped into view and John screamed. It was McCormy again.

He smiled. "Well, it's nice to know you're up." He said blithely

John couldn't find an answer to that. He had forgotten to breathe.

"Well John," The priest said. "I know that was a little bit frightening, but you scared us a little more that necessary."

John floated away from the conversation. How could that man say that he had frightened them, he had just been tortured. But he was in Ravenscar, it had been real. He flinched away from the memory of pain, it was too much. He was too tired for it now.

"McCormy exorcised you."

John whimpered coming back from his thoughts..

"Yes, but not all of our patients...react." There was a strange emotion behind those words. John looked up.

* * *

McCormy was watching him but quickly looked away, avoiding John's eyes, instead he helped him up. "You haven't been out long, but it's time for dinner, come, I'll take you."

He was assigned a seat with four other boys. He didn't quite remember what had happened in that chamber, it slipped from his mind every time he had a firm grasp on it.

But he was mad. He soon forgot it.

"Hey man, you gotta smoke?" The loud and slightly hoarse voice broke into his thoughts shattering them.

'I-I don't smoke." His voice quavered uncertainly. He had never spoken to anyone his age, not since the second grade when he attacked his teacher.

One of the other boys laughed, but it was a dead sort of hungry giggle. All of them were skeletal, with big eyes and hollow faces. Is this what he looked like?

They sat silently watching each other.

'You gonna eat that?" One asked, gesturing at his untouched food.

"No I'm not hungry." He said.

"Okay. You mind?"

Surprised, John nodded.

There was silence once more. John hadn't talked to anyone mad, not that he could remember much of his early years in the asylums.

But as far as the other boys were concerned, silence was golden.

"Sorry, but how come there are so many boys here?" He couldn't stop the question, it slipped between his lips before he could hold it back. He had been bothered by it before but he had been to afraid to ask Brother McCormy when he had entered.

The boys looked around startled by the question. 'Well any boy not cured is eventually sent here, the priests do like a pretty boy." He laughed a little, but the noise was humorless and bitter. "be thankful you don't appeal to any of them. Just fight a lot and the worst they can do is shock you."

"What about exorcisms?"

"What about them?"

"That's worse than shocking isn't it?"

They were staring at him now. Feeling uncomfortable John fidgeted with his fork. "Well it is isn't it?"

"It hurts?"

"Well, yeah, didn't it hurt you?"

They shook their heads in union. "Only a few people actually, you know, feel anything."

He felt silly, "I can't remember much anyway." he looked down at his plate again.

"There's another kid here, who feels it."

"Who?" Not that he was really paying attention anymore. It felt good to have his voice used for something other than screaming.

"Hennesy. Nobody knows his first name." The main speaker was pointing at a rather fat boy sitting alone at another table. Hennesy was rolling a cross around in his fingers and praying with his eyes shut tightly.

"Yeah he's a weird one all right, first day in and he tried to attack the head priest for banning alcohol."

"Why's he got that cross?"

"He believes in magic or something, they keep him in his room for them most of the day. Can't stand to be with other people."

John nodded, wanting to stop talking and relax.

"My name's Sean." If you need anything, thats Brown, Setty, and Hadley.

John snorted into his pudding. Sean grimaced. "Our first names aren't used by the priests so it's better to just remember the last names."

They all stared at the table. "What did it feel like?" One of the boys asked.

"Pain, lots and lots of pain." John shivered remembering the agony. Even if it had been only for a second, he flinched away from the memory of the mirror-room.

"Right, Well cut a gag out of your blanket or something, make it look like a tear."

"They'll do it again?" It came out as a whisper.

"If you don't behave... What are you in for anyway?"

"Hallucinations followed by violence." It's what the doctors had told him, except they had used longer more impersonal names. "You?"

"I hear voices." Seans eyes were haunted.

"I tried to kill my father." said Hadley.

The rest of them stayed silent.

It was only three days before he had to revisit the mirror room. He hadn't eaten anything except the small stale apple that was occasionally handed out to them when they had to exercise.

It came during the lunch period. He was sitting with Sean silently contemplating him. Like all the boys here he was, of course, thin. But he was different, he never stopped moving even when the priests had told him to be silent. He wasn't beaten or broken, not like John, or Hennesy or Brown.

Maybe thats why the priests so often came to his room in the night. He never told anyone about these nighttime nightmares but you could see it in his eyes. And the bloody lips and black eyes.

A shadow loomed over him, a different priest with a purple scarf put his hand on Johns shoulder, "Constantine is it?"

John nodded, terrified.

"Now I saw you give your food to that there boy."

"Umm...Yes sir?" John had been giving his food to anybody who wanted it. He hated seeing people waste away in front of him. If they ate at all he was happy.

"Now why aren't you hungry?"

"loss of appetite sir?"

"Trying to be funny, boy?" he snarled, bringing his head close to John's.

"No sir." John said quickly.

"Well, anyhow, I think two shocks for the greedy one and an exorcism for you. After all, You can't die on us now."

He said it in a way that told John that he would have no qualms about killing John, right there in the cafeteria.

'Please sir. It wasn't a joke sir." he was gabbling he knew it, but he couldn't stop the words flowing from his mouth.

"Come now, we'll get you right in the head."

John was lifted bodily from his seat. Sobs racked his body as he fought with weak arms that were unused to the exercise.

He was carried through to the mirror room once more again constrained by the straps on the table.

He fell silent, staring at himself on the ceiling. His face was dead white but that may have been because of his lack of sunlight. He hadn't seen the sun in five years. Only glimmers of it from barred and colored glass.

He would not scream, would not give any reaction. Maybe if he didn't react he wouldn't be taken here again. He tried desperately to breath through his tight throat.

Now a priest was talking, he looked at him silently begging.

It was Brother Lawrence.

He barely had time to register this before he forgot the promise he had made himself and screamed.

It was even worse than he remembered. Beating his knuckles against the table until they were bloody, he arched his back until he thought his spine would nap. By the open doorway, a priest stood. A purple scarf draped haphazardly over his collar and black robe. His face was a blue-black, his eyes a smooth black, except for the pupils which shone a deep, malevolent red.

A deep guttural, inhuman cry tore itself out of John's throat. It wasn't a human sound, it was animal whine, born of fear and deep, unbearable pain.

He snapped his head back and heard something crunch, welcome unconsciousness claimed him.

John was on the best behavior for the next two weeks, Christmas would be coming soon.


	4. Revelations

The days dragged by slowly. John never answered any questions. He slept in between his torture sessions and ate only when commended.

When Christmas came, he was woken at one in the morning and was read those dreaded words by the one priest he had looked up to. It became a rhythm of sorts, the pain, the relief, the pain.

Sean had hung himself using his bed sheets and the chandelier in the main hall. Hennesy had been released yesterday. Five new boys had joined.

Father Lawrence knelt beside Constantine. John rolled his head warily to face him.

"Well, Constantine there are a few things you should understand. We have a few brothers outside this place and a few will be watching you and your family over the holidays. Now, you try to tell them how your first trip to Ravenscar was? Well our brothers will make it clear just how dangerously insane you are and how these hazardous hallucinations might be the cause of a few more _special_ operations_._

We try to be as understanding as we can when it comes to family so we'll send them some reports every so often." He paused and looked at John. "Do we understand each other?"

The boy nodded mutely his head was aching and he felt blood trickling from his nose. He might be mad but he wasn't stupid.

"Good, I'm glad."

When his parents arrived it was to find a shrunken shell of their son.

Talking anxiously they walked him to a car and strapped him in. He fell silent, ignoring their questions. The pain had faded fast, but he could barely walk, it was an effort to think but he tried anyway, he had to remember, he had to.

Vaguely he wondered if Sean's name had been added to that running list, that catalog of death.

Sean, Derick, _asphyxiation. _

They drove a long way, awkward silence permeated the car. Country music was playing on the radio. John hated country music.

The landscape outside was bare, old farmhouses flashed by in a blur of rotten timbers. He knew what awaited him back at Ravescar, that mirror room. _Don't think about it._

He repeated that mantra in his head, trying to block out the memory of his own screams.

"What would you like for Christmas?" His mother asked timidly, scattering his thoughts.

"A bed." he said absently, and for a moment John wonderd if this what it felt like to be normal. It was...nice.

Some of the uncomfortable silence vanished and they began to talk of sane things like Christmas dinner and the new house.

John got out of the car with shaky legs. The new house was big, a glaring, eye stinging green lawn stretched the length in the front. A tricycle and a beach towel lay discarded in the front, the toys were beached, their color taken by the sun. John smiled and winced at once, the expression tore at the skin on his face. How long how long ago had he smiled? _Never_

His mother placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and helped him up the steps. It was the perfect family home, the kind that you see on postcards or in movies. But then again they were the perfect couple, both young, loving and of course with children.

The only thing in the way of their happiness was him. _No, thats not true, snap out of it._

"They opened the door and led him inside, it was spacious with high ceilings and white walls, he shuddered away from the blank color and instead looked at the little girl who had entered. She was small, only nine or ten with wide black eyes and soft brow hair.

"This is Christina." John's parents had gone to either side of the child, shielding and protecting her. They looked nervous and excited.

She stepped forward out of the safety of her parents and extended her hand, a childish show of trust. "Hi."

"Hi." He stared at her for a moment. She was a decidedly pretty child with a strong chin and sharp cheekbones. Though still young she showed all the signs of being quite beautiful.

An older girl stepped through a door to his right, a carton of orange juice in one hand. "Chrissy, where...Oh." She stopped dead, catching sight of John.

"Uh... well, you're home. Right, I'll be going then."

She sidestepped carefully around the family, grabbed her coat and made her way to the door.

"Lauren!" Called John's mother.

She turned around slowly. "Uh...Yeah?"

"This is John."

John extended his hand uncertainly. But Lauren took a step backward at the sudden movement and tripped over an umbrella stand by the door.

Christina giggled.

"I have to be going" Lauren said and fled, bouncing out the door and disappearing into the house across the street.

John was left standing with his hand held in front of him. "Don't worry about her." His mother said, putting a comforting hand on his arm. He nodded, a little put down.

Christina burst out laughing, "I-I'm sorry, she was being so boring telling me about her brother, so I told her about John being a dangerous lunatic, You should have seen her face!" She looked at John with merry eyes. "Sorry, but I couldn't resist, If you knew her you would have done the same thing."

But John was laughing with her. His parents relaxed and scolded her. But in a chiding sort of way. "Now who are we going to get to babysit you?"

Christina only howled louder, "The lunatic of course!"

She turned to hug her parents and John saw the wings, they were the same color as her hair. The long feathers, bigger and more beautiful than any bird ruffled a little in a breeze from the door.

John shut his eyes tightly and turned away. _They're not real, don't look. It'd not real._

His father was looking at him in concern, they all were. John cleared his throat "What's for dinner?"

Christmas came and went peacefully, Christina was welcoming and delighted to finally meet her brother. As long as John didn't see her wings he stayed clear of nightmares, but it was hard, sometimes during dinner, they would reach up and caress him parents faces, stretching out behind her when she walked. Closing in around her when she was angry or sad.

It seemed all to quickly that the day came to go back to Ravensguard. The demons came howling again pushing at his door.

When he could take it no longer he snapped on his light. A man was standing outside his door. A well dressed man unlike most of Johns visions. He looked normal, a tarnished coin was flipping over his knuckles.

"Hello Johnny boy," he said. His voice was faintly whining, like an echo of nails scraping across a chalkboard. He disappeared abruptly and John worked himself into a corner, trying to catch site of him. More people came, men and women, their faces rotten and decaying screaming at him in shrill voices.

John sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers stuffed into him mouth, trying to stifle his own screams.

Christina came into site, she exuded a glow, a burning light. A double outline shone through her, there was her body but also inside her was the features if a person, not male or female, what ever it was was fighting to get out, it was as if Christina's body was splitting at the seams trying to let something out. Her wings rose behind her, making her seem bigger, and infinitely older and more frightening than a ten year old.

The rotting people backed away from his doorway screeching at this new vision. It was too much, John slid off his bed and slammed the door. He leaned against it panting with terror. It was too much. This madness, it couldn't go on.

How much longer could he do this, pretend that everything was normal and then face these hallucinations at night.

He couldn't escape this, this messed up half-life. These illusions would continue and three two days from now he would be back in _that _place with the horror priests and the terror room.

He couldn't do it, couldn't face it. John slid to the floor, his head in his hands. He would never go back to that place. Sean had it right. The only option out was the only option left.

He wrote a note of course, explaining in detail why he was doing it and what had happened at Ravenscar.

He even shed a few tears wishing his family happiness. He stood a while contemplating his life.

His 'life', what a dull term. His life had been spent in brutal hospitals. Life was nothing.

Dully he waited for morning.

The light crept steadily across the room and with it the unearthly sound outside his door faded away. He warily opened his door a crack and peered out. Nothing was there.

John crept stealthily down to the kitchen and rummaged through a door. He withdrew a small knife.

Back upstairs he knelt beside his bed, not on it, he didn't want to get blood on the sheets. Carefully he laid the small knife on the inside of his wrist, it gleamed dully, making a sliver of light dance across his hand.

This was it, this was his life...

With a quick decisive movement he pressed down on the metal and slid it across and up his arm in a rough diagonal. He didn't look, but he could feel the warm blood spill across his hand. It was painful, he gasped at the raw pain, but it was a pleasing release from the type of agony the mirror room had given him.

He had barely enough strength to slash the other hand before he fainted. John died peacefully.

_PRESENT DAY_

Angela was in the kitchen when John woke up. He still had his clothes on, so he hadn't slept with her. He couldn't remember much.

"Angela?" He called weakly.

She popped her head around the door frame. "Yes John?"

"I'm going for a walk." He scanned the room for a clean shirt.

"Breakfast's almost ready."

He had found a relatively clean shirt, he quickly draped the jacket over his shoulders and put on his tie.

"It's bacon and eggs."

He looked up at her. "I always eat out."

"No you don't John, you don't eat anything until lunchtime, and that's mostly cigarettes." She looked at him accusingly. "Its no wonder you're so thin."

"I quit smoking." It sounded wooden, even to him.

"So then it's down to the bar."

"Angela stop it."

"Please, John."

He looked at her. It was only breakfast after all.

"John?"She was frightened. Of what? Him, or just for him?

**"I'm going for a walk." **


	5. Chapter 5

_**Well, here is my view on hell. This is probably the longest chapter yet...**_

* * *

There was heat, so much heat it was like physical pain, pushing down on him and blocking his ears. John stood, taking a deep breath and gagged as he inhaled some foul smelling dust blew around him and settled in his lungs like acidic smoke.

A wet gurgle cut out harshly behind him and he turned. A _thing _was standing on his bed, or the remains of his bed, the frame had eroded somehow. It raised its body on long, spindly jointed legs. The top half of his head had been blasted off, revealing pinkish gray porous tissue where a brain should be.

It sniffed the air wetly, it's thin crackled lips parting in a gruesome smile. John remained rigid as the creature crept stealthily toward him, using its double jointed arms and legs like a spider. It gargled again and John realized with a shiver of horror that it was _laughing_.

He closed his eyes his breaths coming in shaky gasps. But he could feel it, that sickening sliding sound of clammy skin on floor boards.

Something sharp dragged across his cheek softly. John opened his eye a tiny fraction to see the monster's face right in front of him, sharp teeth bared in a hideous smile. A long fingernail was poised on the tip of his nose.

John turned and ran, the creature laughed again and gave a blood curdling scream as it loped ungainly after him.

Immediately many of the same things erupted every where . They crawled out of his parents bedrooms and through windows. John stumbled out of the dessicated mirror image of his house. The monsters were hooting and calling in a cross between a war cry and an excited scream.

John ran on jumping over rubble and the shriveled shells of cars. The chase seemed to go on for hours. He was tiring, maybe if he just stopped he would wake up from this nightmare, but as he saw another creature leap at him he knew beyond any doubt that they would not be merciful, that this was no dream.

John peered backwards again, sobbing in exhaustion and terror. He hit something, and stumbled backwards, rubbing his chest. A man was standing before him, grinning. John looked around, the monsters had skidded to a halt, and were prowling in a wide circle around him.

The man was still smiling. He looked normal, dressed in an immaculate white suit. He exuded a sort of oiliness that was at odds with the arid surroundings.

"Hello John." He said.

His voice was a drawling whine, it insinuated dark things,. The tone itself seemed to bury itself in John's skin, made him want to wash himself until he forgot even the words that had been spoken.

John shuddered and backed up but the man followed him.

"Well Johnny, Welcome to Hell." He laughed and the growl of an enormous beast lay entwined with his mirth, living and lying dormant in his body.

The man grinned showing teeth slightly more angular than normal for a human being. He grabbed John's arm and somehow John managed to find his voice long enough to cry out. The place where the man had touched him burned ice-cold.

The man snatched his hand back quickly as if he too had been burned. "What by all that is holy..."

But John was already pounding along the street. The man in white appeared before him again. This time he was angry.

"How many times, _boy_?" He spat at John.

"W-What?" Panted John.

"How many times were you exorcised?" He shouted, his voice echoing harshly down the street. Even the creatures around them had fallen silent.

"I-I I don't know."

The man backhanded him. John stumbled and reached a hand up to his mouth. He could have sworn that a tooth had been knocked loose.

"How many?!"

"Three weeks." John said, flinching again as the man raised a hand.

"What, continually?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I-I hit Brother A-Andrew."

He whistled slowly between his teeth. "They do a fine job in Ravenscar."

He took John's hand again, this time carefully and there was no pain. John didn't want to go with him. He was tired, hungry and he _hurt_.

"John, you certainly made me feel better, what with all the frightening stories people don't come down here very often... But it's so attractive, I mean look around you." He opened his arms wide to embrace the shimmering surroundings. "It''s just so beautiful! I have something special planned for you my boy, here, let me show you the ropes."

He giggled, and snapped his fingers. In an instant they were standing in a vast hall. John gagged his stomach heaving as he peered at the hundreds of people suspended from the ceiling. All of them were screaming, their bloated faces contorting as they were ripped apart piece by piece by the same creatures that had chased him.

"Stop it, I don't want to be here." John groaned, trying to look away from the scene above his head. "And who _are_ you?"

The man seemed surprised, "Why John, I haven't introduced myself? Well, excuse the bad manners." He bowed low.

"I am Lucifer, and you are John. There, introductions over. Why did I bring you here...Oh wait, I believe you have a friend! A Derick I believe?"

John looked up at him blankly.

"A Derick Sean?"

"Sean..."

"This way!" Lucifer seemed excited, like a child with a new toy.

He rushed along the rows of agonized people like it was a candy shop. But john didn't follow, he was felt lightheaded and dizzy. Alarmed Lucifer looked around. John realized that he was moving backward, being pulled by something.

"No!" The man in white shouted.

John waved at him, laughing. So this was a dream, he had been worried . But instead of waking up he was being jolted by something, it felt a little like electricity. But he was gone, he was away. It didn't matter that Ravenscar was only hours away, he would take the asylum any day, rather than go back to his nightmare.

* * *

_**Yay! **_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Okay, this is going to be a long note. Originally, Les, the woman who told John he had lung cancer (In the movie), had quite a large part (humongous part actually) in this story. And then of course she started making problems with herself. She is around twenty-five in a scene of the movie (and a deleted scene) which are supposed to be twenty years apart. (In an ambulance with young John and in a hospital with old John) ?? **_"You save me before, you can do it again, right?" and "Twenty years ago you didn't wanna' be here. Now you don't wanna leave."**_ Believe me I tried to make it work, half breeds, mystics, dragons even... So you know what? I give up, I took her out. I tried to get as close as I could to the movie, but unfortunately I had to kill Les, (she will fortunately be back in further chapters but, her huge and beautiful role has been subtracted from the story so...) A moment of silence in Dr. Leslie Archer's memory..._**

_**And finally, back to your Les-less fanfic.**_

* * *

Time seemed to stop. Everything around him was pitch dark, but not the darkness that comes from the absence of light, but the void of being utterly alone, free falling with no wind.

But he wasn't alone. Someone was here, a tall black man who wore a pinstripe suit in reds and purples, a hat perched askew on his head.

"Hey John."

John was tired, his whole body ached and stung. "How do you people know my name?" It hurt to talk but he managed the right amount of anger and resentment to come to his tone.

"You're one of us now."

"One of who?"

"That's really up to you."

"Enough!" Energy surged through him once more and he glared at the man. "I am done playing riddles and games, I want to go home _now. _ And if you offer some cryptic shit about my past or Ravenscar or-or... the way I eat. I'm going to kill you."

He merely laughed. "You can't go home now. Not for a long time. There's a few things that I am gonna do first. I'll set you up and show you the ropes-"

John shuddered. This reminded him to much of Lucifer and his hall. "What are you going to teach me."

"Well, first, my name is Midnite."

John began to laugh, confused Midnite looked at him in concern.

"You people, My dreams get crazier and crazier. Why even Sean could say I was mad now!"

"Johnny?"

"Don't call me that! Nobody calls me that!" He glared at Midnite, venom and hatred replacing his the laugh lines.

"Then John." The big man knelt down, his head level with John's. "I don't care what you've been told. I am real, you are real. And you have to understand that. These so called _visions_, I see them too. And everything you have seen, could see, will see. They are all here. This whole place is crawling with them."

Tears were rolling down John's face And he tried to look away from the man's face but Midnite forced him to look into his eyes.

"There are people like us, I can help you John, I can show you how to control it, use it. I don't care how long we have to stay here until you can reason."

"So who are you, who am I? Who are all these fantasy people?"

Midnite drew himself up proudly. "We are the few who can tip the balance intentionally. I remain neutral."

"What balance?"

"The balance , the equilibrium established by god and the devil."

John backed away. "You're crazy, we're both crazy."

"It's real John, and whether you like it or not you will come with me."

"This is a dream." He was calm now, collected.

" Afraid not, I know all about you, I know what you've done. That place you've just witnessed was Hell."

John whimpered, and Midnite looked at him with something akin to pity.

"You're a suicide John, that place is the only thing to look forward to, there is no other goal, aim or meaning to your life."

"No..." John whispered, though his face was shining from tears.

"Yes," Midnite said unmercifully. "It is the only constant, the never-changing. You will stick to it and learn to live with it. I will take you in for one year, no more no less, I will show you a way. And from there your path is alone, you will _never_ and I mean _never. _Darken my doorstep again."

John stared at him.

"Boy, I am all that you have left. Remember."

Abruptly everything vanished, or rather reappeared with the face of a nurse suspended above him. He felt stiff sheets above him and an odd hollow sound of his breath being pushed through a narrow tube. The hm and buzz of black machine recording his every move. And the sick wrongness of needles being pushed into him.

Warm tears trickled down his face, their path hindered by the plastic strapped to his mouth. Sharp elastic dug into what little skin was left on his cheeks, almost everything had been eaten out by hunger and terror.

Someone removed the mask and in the quietest possible whisper asked how he was feeling. Opening his mouth nothing came out. Encouraged the head bent lower. It was a woman he noticed vaguely just a simple stupid woman who had no idea. Who hadn't got a fucking clue.

John screamed. And screamed and screamed, howling his grief, confusion and shame to the world because nothing could help him now. Not even the nurses erupting around him digging their sharp objects into his arms. He screamed through a flimsy piece of plastic until he lost consciousness.

* * *

_**Well, that went rather well, these next few chapters will be the hardest and don't expect a new chapter everyday. Umm...I guess until next time!**_

_**-L**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thanks for waiting, I had writers block for a little bit, but now it's fine. I'll probably update tomorrow if I have time.**_

_**-L**_

* * *

Midnite was there when he woke up. The big man was still in his cleanly pressed purple and red suit. John didn't know what he felt at that moment, he had known that it had not been a dream, but the presence of him in his room was an unwelcome reminder of...Hell.

Finally Midnite broke the silence. "Your parents are in the waiting room."

John said nothing.

"You will have to leave them behind."

'What were those things, in Hell, with the half-heads?" He didn't look at Midnite, for fear of what might be revealed on the man's face, John couldn't handle pity at the moment.

"Soldier demons. They are minions to the devil."

"Lucifer." John said to the bedsheets.

"Then you've met him?"

"Yes."

Midnite was quiet for a bit, waiting for him to elaborate, but when no other information was forthcoming he tried to fill the awkward gap.

"I've met your sister."

"And what is she?"

"An angel."

Silence again, Midnite gave up trying to catch his eye and peered out the window in the hallway.

"I'm mad you know." John said conversationally.

Midnite sighed and crossed his legs. "That's what they told me."

John realized he was crying and hurriedly wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"What will I have to do?"

"Learn mostly, I won't be in charge of you. I have other people who do the real work, I just give you a place to stay."

"Why must I go with you?"

Midnite's eyes widened in amazement. "You want to go back to Ravenscar?"

"No...but..."

"Listen, Christina knows you're alive, she'll look you up in a few years, your parents will think you dead and your only friend really is dead."

John looked up sharply. "How do you know about Sean?"

"Hennesy."

"What?"

"You used to have a friend called Hennesy?"

"Well, I wouldn't say a friend as such."

"Anyway, he told me about you."

"How did you meet Hennesy?"

'I got him about a month ago, his family died, so I vouched for him."

"But why?"

"You'll have to come with me to find out."

"What, now?"

"No time like the present."

"But what about my family?"

"The Nurses will cover for us, there was a mistaken identity or something, you've already been cremated."

"But-"

Without even looking to see if John was following, Midnite strode out the door. Cursing, John struggled out of the metal cot. Where the hell was he going? Standing now and feeling sick John walked down the hallway, gripping the wall weakly for support.

A flash of purple disappeared around a corner in front of him and he tripped, lurching into the middle of the hallway. He brushed some of the hair away from his eyes and noticed that the bandage around his wrist was turning red.

"Midnite...?"

The purple and red blur in front of him got bigger and bigger. Strong arms lifted him up, and someone gasped.

"Jesus Christ Johnny, when did you last eat?"

"Don't call me Johnny..." John protested weakly.

"Alright, hold on a second. Nurse!"

John passed out.

* * *

The good news was that John had eaten and was on his way out. The bad news was that Midnite didn't have a car, and John didn't have any clothes, other than the thin hospital scrubs he was wearing.

"Look I have to go now, I'm late for an appointment."

John said nothing, Midnite had managed to give him a room with a view onto busy streets and John watched the passersby with interest, here and there the place was dotted with wings and forked tails, pushing through crowds and running towards the subway like every other person on the street.

Winged people ran out of grocery stores, to be hissed at by glowing eyes.

"I'll send someone over with clothes."

John nodded absentmindedly watching two old women gossip with a demon.

_A demon_... John savored the word. These things were real, and they had names. It felt like he had been running all his life. And now he had found somewhere safe.

The door closed quietly and John lost himself in the street again.

* * *

It was hours later, when somebody knocked. John was flipping through a book on medical history. He peered through a door, a teenager, probably seventeen was looking around nervously, he jostled something in his hand, a plastic bag.

John opened the door and stuck his head out.

"Yes?"

"Are you John?" He asked, tapping his foot restlessly.

"Yes."

"I'm Beeman, Midnite sent me over with clothes." Beeman offered the bag.

John took it and opened the door wider. "You work for Midnite?"

"I run errands for him." He stood up straighter, almost proud of his job.

"Right..." John said indifferently, sifting through the bag. "I have to wear this?" He asked, revolted.

The clothes were purple and red, a magenta jacket and a white silk shirt. The pants were silk too, but a horribly depressing shade of dark purple.

"Yeah, You don't have to wear it now though, There are some jeans and a T-shirt in there as well."

"I'm am never going to wear that."

"You have to, you'll serve in his club when you have time off. We all have to wear it."

"Jesus... Well, I'll find something else to wear then."

"He'll get angry, he isn't fond of us. To him we're just...business."

* * *

_**Sorry, i needed a filler chapter, and I had to introduce Beeman and Hennesy some way.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**OKay I updated, sorry about the long wait...**_

* * *

"You hungry?" Beeman asked, walking next to John.

"No, I'm fine." John had stuffed his hands into his pockets and slouched over so that people couldn't see the bandages around his wrists. "So how long have you been working for Midnite?"

"About twelve years, since I was seven."

"Thats a long time."

"Yeah, but I don't have anywhere else to go."

"You suicided at seven?"

"No, I ran away from home, my parents locked me up in the basement."

"They kept you in the basement?"

"Yeah," Beeman looked down in embarrassment. "They were religious maniacs, or my mom was, my dad was a half-demon, he persuaded her to lock me up."

"Jesus..."

"Yeah, but I'm not the worst one, I mean, Hennesy won't tell us what his story is and None of us _want_ to know how Midnite started out."

"Started what?"

"You know," He gestured at the people passing and lowered his voice. "Demonology and stuff."

"What?"

"Didn't Midnite tell you anything?"

"Not really, no."

"Well, I'm not going to go into it now." He looked around nervously.

"You mentioned an 'us'?"

"Umm, Well, Midnite recruits a lot of people, to get stuff for him."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Could you stop asking questions?" Beeman looked slightly sick.

"What's wrong?"

"That's a question as well."

"Fine." John stared moodily at the sidewalk and deliberately crushed a piece of glass under his foot. "I don't want to be here anyway. At least in hell people actually told me stuff. Lucifer was a lot more friendly than Midnite"

Beeman stopped and looked at him, his eyes wide. "You went? And saw him?"

"Who's asking questions now?" John snapped, wishing he hadn't said anything.

"Fine. But I can't tell you anything until Midnite has talked to you."

John just ground another piece of glass under his heel.

"Anyway what's your story?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"How did Midnite find you?"

"I dunno'. He just sorta' turned up at the hospital..."

"So why'd you do it?"

"What?"

"You know, kamikaze."

"Kamikaze?"

"Oh come on. Don't you know anything?"

"No, because nobody will tell me anything!"

Beeman snorted and looked around. "Okay, Well, why did you," he looked around again and lowered his voice. "_Suicide_"

"Oh, Umm... I don't know."

"_You don't know?_" That turned a few heads.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it."

Beeman sighed, "Okay, Look, Midnite's." He pointed at a low set sign that read 'PAPA MIDNITE'S'. John began to laugh.

"What?" Asked Beeman in concern.

"A _bar_?"

"Yeah?"

John laughed even harder. "Midnite, the demonology expert, the man in my mind, the one who knows about demons and angels, is a _barman_?"

* * *

_**Phew, Thats over with**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**I'm sorry, this is a horrible chapter i know, but I couldn't think of what to write next, I have an idea now so the next update will be pretty soon. I've just been so busy this week and I recently started another fanfic...**_

* * *

Midnite's bar was bigger than it looked. From the sidewalk, the colorful sign was a little higher than eye level and the steps down to the door were steep and uneven. People passing by were staring at the brightly lit doorway with distaste, loud music was pumping inside, and the vibrations shook the pavement, sending little vibrations up Johns spine.

Beeman lead him down the steps ignoring the sign that proclaimed in bright red letters.

'MINORS TURNED AWAY AT DOOR. YOU MUST BE EIGHTEEN OR OLDER TO ENTER THIS BAR'

Beeman opened the door and ushered John inside, glaring at a few kids who were watching them hungrily, hoping for a pass as well.

The lighting was red, the walls were red and the carpet was...red. It reminded John of the unpleasant night before. Why had everything suddenly gotten so complicated?

A big man stood in their way, blocking entrance to a bigger room beyond his sight. Beeman stopped short and glared at him. "Look, I've been here tons of times. I practically live here!" The man said nothing but held up a card, A crude drawing of two dolphins flying was emblazoned on the front.

Beeman squinted at it and sighed. "Two frogs on a bench."

The bouncer stepped aside and let him past. John tried to follow but was restrained by a big hand. Another card was held up with the same dolphins on the side.

"Ah, Beeman?" Beeman looked back and grinned.

"Oh right." He walked back and gave the bouncer a piece of paper. The bouncer looked at it for a few seconds and nodded, peeling back the rope to let John into the club.

"Sorry about that, He's a little psycho about the rules. Midnite'll tell you how to get in later."

John looked around, mirrors were on every wall reflecting red light across everything. The air was hazy from smoke. The place was fairly empty, only a few people sat at the tables and bar. They were all staring into the distance and drinking.

Beeman didn't even look at them, but John couldn't keep his eyes from the wings of a man sitting by the door, they where huge, the biggest John had ever seen, yet they were bat wins, almost scaly and gave off an oily sheen in the half light.

Beeman led him through the room to a door with a rickety sign put up with tape. 'employees only'.

He opened it and John followed him up the steep unstable stairs inside.

* * *

_**There is no excuse for this writing, I'm really, really sorry... PLEASE REVIEW!! you know you want to... Oh and I enabled anonymous reviews, So drop me a hint of what you want done next or what you didn't like.  
**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**I need names!! I would appreciate it if you could give me some ideas for names of characters, I'm fishing through the bottom of the barrel here.**_

* * *

Midnite wasn't a kind man, he didn't like being in arguments, he especially didn't like that John was complaining about his new garb.

"Be reasonable, it's a bloody nightmare!" John had filled out in the past couple of weeks, his face was still gaunt but the flesh had filled a little. His hair had been cut, still long but he actually looked like a decent respectable working class teenager. He had been introduced to all of the boys in Midnite's care, there were seven in all, not counting Hennesy.

"It is not your choice." Midnite didn't even look up from polishing a drinking glass.

"But It's ridiculous, it's stupid. Why the hell would anyone want to wear it?"  
Midnite put the glass down with a ringing crack, he stared at John, his eyes burning. "I do not care how you look or feel, you _will _wear the suit until I let you out of here."

John met his gaze for a few seconds but looked away after a while, his eyes smarting. Midnite could use voodoo magic on him all he liked nut John wasn't backing down.

"When am I going to learn something useful?" He asked his eyes resting on a spot above Midnite's left shoulder.

"What do you want from me Constantine?" Midnite asked picking up another soiled glass.

"What did you want of me when you brought me here?"

"As a busboy."

"You did not take me out of hell to wash your tables."

Midnite stopped cleaning his glass. "I did not take you out of hell, boy." He said his voice growling, "I took you in because I already had a heaven born child."

"And what is a heaven born child." Asked John greedily, he longed for knowledge of his new life. He wanted to know everything so he could never be fooled or tricked and left in the dark again to face the unknown.

"He is destined for heaven as you are destined for hell."

That winded John for a second. "I will not go to hell."

"You have no choice in the matter, the same as your uniform."

"I will find a way Midnite."

Midnite laughed bitterly.

"Good luck with that Constantine." he said grinning to show his long white teeth.

John stormed away from him, heading for the stairs. Behind him Midnite started to whistle. Abruptly John turned and threw a glass at Midnite, he watched it arch toward the barman and he marveled at how hard he had thrown it. .

Midnite caught it in one hand and began polishing it, not breaking to look at John or take a breath to continue the annoying song he was whistling.

White with anger John slammed the door behind him and ran up the steps to the room he shared with Beeman, Hennesy and a new recruit, Jack.

Beeman was on the floor translating a Latin book for Hennesy, Jack was playing the guitar.

John collapsed onto a bed, beating his head against a post.

Beeman looked up. ""That's not going to help." He observed pushing his book aside and rolling over to stare at the ceiling.

"He is such an-an-"

"Don't say anything, he can hear every word." Hennesy was staring apprehensively at the door, stroking a small golden cross in two grimy fingers.

"I don't care, he's an idiot!"

"Oh, I thought you were going to say something else... What did you argue about this time?" Beeman propped his head up on his hands.

"The clothes."

"Jesus, they're just clothes John."

"Don't take the lord's name in vain." Snapped Hennesy, his head shooting up.

"Relax, Henry." Said Jack, putting his guitar down.

"It's Hennesy." He said angrily, rubbing his fingers across his rosary faster.

"Right, whatever."

"Anyway," John said quickly, cutting off Hennesy's angry remark. "He's supposed to be teaching us. What is he waiting for?"

He missed the nervous glance that passed between his roommates. "Actually, John," said Beeman carefully, "We're already being taught."

"By who?" Asked John looking at him.

"Midnite."

Jack sighed and got up, stretching himself and touching the ceiling, he was really tall. His bat-like wings strained out behind him, waving gently. John and Hennesy flinched together. "Could you please stop doing that?" John asked looking away uncomfortably.

Jack complied, folding the appendages back onto his shoulder blades. "But it hurts if I keep them bent like this." He complained rolling his shoulders to loosen them.

"How did they get to be like that?" asked Beeman curiously. "The only other pair like that is old Ben and he doesn't even realize he's half demon."

"Well, yeah. My mom was an angel, my dad was a demon, that's what we think anyway."

"But angels can't, you know..."

Jack snorted, "You can say it you know, but anyway, It's actually rather embarrassing... He-Midnite assumes that the demon raped my mother, I mean that's the only way that I could be here."

"That must've been a surprise for your mother." Beeman said to his pillow.

Hennesy gave a strangled laugh and Jack turned on him. "It isn't funny." He said, his face a bright red.

"Yes, of course." He said apologetically.

"Why did she keep you?" John asked hesitantly, "Couldn't she you know, magic you away?" He waved his hands to illustrate his point.

Jack smiled, but his expression was bitter. "You can't just do that. It's not exactly magic, I mean you need balance every step of the way in magic."

"Midnite mentioned something about balance." Said John, frowning as he tried to remember.

"Everything is in balance, look," Jack pointed at the bed John was sitting on. "There is a copy of that bed in heaven and in hell. They won't be exact copies but the bed in heaven and the bed in hell are exact opposites but if you add them together you get the bed you are sitting on now."

John listened intently, It was the first useful thing he had learned.

"See, take Midnite, he is about one hundred and thirty years old. But his soul in heaven and his soul in hell are exactly the same to each other, he can't go anywhere, so he retains his place here, on this plane."

"If he's so ancient, he should have better taste in style." John grumbled, picking up the shirt he was supposed to wear.

Jack laughed and brought out his guitar again and started playing a tune.

"So you were raised by an angel?" John asked, still staring at Jack.

"No," He said his face hardening. " She left me on the streets."

John gaped at him. "But she's an angel. She can't just leave you on you're own!"

"It isn't one of the rules." Jack told him quietly. "It doesn't matter what's good or bad, as long as you don't call god by his name or kill, you can get away with almost everything."

* * *

_**PLEASE REVIEW I AM DESPERATE!!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**So now, this is going to be a little confusing for a while, I'm still trying to work the kinks out of the next chapter. I could really use some reviews... Pretty Please?**_

* * *

John grew used to life at the club fairly quickly. Besides being taught nothing but how to make drinks and getting into frequent fights with Midnite, he was happy. Jack however was growing discontent. John would hear him growl curses when he thought no one could hear. Jack was a good friend and John kind of got used to the leathery bat wings. Jack had let him touch them once, It was strange, almost like plastic without the stickiness.

Hennesy wasn't satisfied either. He occasionally called Midnite a 'heathen' and was continually teased by Jack. Beeman and the rest of the boys in the other rooms hero-worshiped Midnite, doing everything in their power to get into his favor.

The bar was smoky and clean, the regulars all seemed to be friends. Nobody talked much though, the most anybody did was drink. Occasionally demons and angels made their way to Midnite and whispered a quiet word in his ear. Midnite would then usher them into a room at the back that John wasn't allowed into. This killed him.

All the boys even Hennesy were allowed into that forbidden room. Sometimes John was a little jealous. Midnite was supposed to teach him something, anything, he had promised. John just felt so useless, so bored.

Sometime Jack took pity on him and gave him hints, clues to the puzzle of the heaven-hell balance. Although John was older, he felt a little intimidated by Jack's knowledge of the supernatural. Sometimes he felt as if Midnite was testing him, dangling teachings in front of him in order to get him somewhere. Other times he thought that he would be Midnite's waiter until his death.

The club was a prison at times, a comfortable, richly decorated prison, but a cage non the less. He wasn't allowed out of the club. The other boys were though. He got teased sometimes about his confined and lowly status. How he hated Midnite when that happened.

So he fought like a caged lion, fought about everything, about what he was wearing, what the club looked like. How every single boy but him had special privileges, even if it was just a trip into the outside world.

He had been restricted to one white room for most of his life, and he had been okay with that because he believed that it could be fixed, that his madness would go away. And now he had lived however briefly, had seen his family, smelled sweet air and seen normal people, people who didn't have to care about whether their neighbors had fangs or glowed.

He wanted out. He felt special for the first time in his sad, short, and painful life. And he wanted so many things. He wanted to do things that he had never done before, never had the will to try.

So when Jack offered him a cigarette, he took it eagerly.

Not such a good thing. He coughed, and Jack laughed.

"You get used to it." He said, grinning at John's disgusted expression. "Did you feel the buzz?"

"Kinda..." John didn't want to try it again but Jack was expecting him, and he didn't want to disappoint his friend.

He took another breath of smoke. It didn't sting as much but it was still unpleasant. He could feel his cheeks begin to get red.

"You know, I never expected to end up here?" Jack said staring up at the sky.

John coughed in answer.

"I mean the streets were fine, what the hell did I follow Midnite for?"

John wasn't really listening, he was focusing his entire being on not coughing again.

"You know who's winning the bet?" Said Jack, not even waiting for an answer he swept on along, becoming even angrier. "I'll tell, you it's the devil, all his demons have you noticed? Their images are becoming more real, they are winning. I'm telling you you are on the right side."

"What side?" John interrupted letting out a huge hacking cough."

Jack looked surprised. "Well, You're going to take the demons side, if you're lucky he might even promote you to demon. I mean you'd have to like, kill hundreds of people to do it."

John stared at him. "What do you mean, I'm not going that side of the balance, Why would I?"

"You're going to hell no matter which way you look at it. I mean you're a suicide. You _died _for Christ sake. It's not like you can just switch your fate."

"I will, I'll find a way. I mean, I can kill rogue demons for a living. That'll earn me a few points in His favor."

"I don't think so." Jack was looking at him with pity, a emotion that had been directed at him for far to long. John pushed himself away from the wall, his head pounding.

"I'm not going back there! I don't care if I have to kill the devil himself."

"Jesus, calm down John."

"No, for once I am not going to disappear. I hate this." He threw down the cigarette. "when am i going to see the action know how to kill demons, be able to help people like me?"

'Midnite won't teach you how to kill demons that'd be a breach of the balance."

"Then why doesn't he tell me these things?" he was getting louder.

"Because the heaven born child isn't learning anything either." It looked as if that hurt to say it. To admit something that John didn't understand.

"Okay, so who and what is a heaven born ch-"

"That's enough." Said a growling voice from the door. It was Midnite.

"Jack, go and tend the bar." Jack obeyed casting a scared look at John.

"Now, Constantine, a heaven born child is someone who at birth house a saint inside their body. It doesn't matter what happened to that saint later, their souls touched and the person now has no ability what so ever to be a sinner. My heaven born child died five minutes ago and by rights I should kill you right now."

John took a hesitant step back ward hitting the wall, Midnite followed him. "But as it turns out, Constantine, I need you."

Relief passed briefly through John's body, replaced by fear and curiosity. "Why?" He asked his voice cracking.

Midnite smiled. "You are now disposable, but against my better judgment, I like you. You remind me of someone I used to know. So I will teach you and in return, you will find some things for me and you will bring them back to me."

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_**HAHA now you have to review because you read it!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Please review? I know I haven't updated in a while, I've been really...busy.**_

_**It starts out a little slow, because I haven't written in a while, but It gets better I promise...**_

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"What things?" John asked. His heart hammering with excitement.

"Oh, I don't know, come to the back and we'll discuss it."

He disappeared down to the bar.

John still had his back to the wall, he stared after the barman, _what on earth...?_

Was he finally going to be doing something? Earning a way to get to heaven?

Was he going to live?

The cigarette in his left hand burnt down, singing his fingers. He let go with a startled yelp. Sucking on his fingers he stomped down the stairs. It was habit, he liked to annoy Midnite anyway he could.

The bar was fuller than usual, and the muffled conversation had grown louder, demons and angels littered the tables, their eyes glowing.

The door to the forbidd3en room was open and John walked slowly toward it. He felt eyes on his back and whipped around, Jack was standing in the door to the stairs, a cigarette in one shaking hand. He looked old, far too old and tired for his body. And he was once again reminded that Jack wasn't quite human.

John shook his head, trying to free his thought from the younger boy. This was his chance to learn something, to do something, and he was standing, thinking about a friend?

Disgusted with himself he turned again and with one decisive step crossed the doorway into a hall.

It was huge, white marble glowed with cleanliness, and statues, paintings and an assortment of curious objects littered the floor in messy piles. It was beautiful in an empty, alien way. Everything was so _old._

Some things looked like they belonged in an art gallery, others looked like they should be selling for a nickel in a yard sale.

Midnite stood towards the back, rummaging around in an old, scratched dresser. It was the only thing in the massive place that looked used.

It was completely different from the club behind John, and he looked around just to make sure that he had not stepped into some different world. John went into a complete circle staring at all the wealth and splendor, hidden away in some dirty bar. It had been here all this time, just sitting.

Midnite turned around and laughed, his voice growling in the back of his throat.

"So Johnny-boy, you like it?"

"I think I told you once, never to call me that." John didn't look at him but was studying a vase on an antique table lying on it's side, little signs and figures were scratched deep into the wood, it was gibberish, nonsense. And in the center was a raised ring of gray stone, rough cut, around it the wood had been scorched.

Something gold glinted in John's vision, he frowned and bent closer to see what was shining. Nothing was there. He reached out a finger, and tried to rub at the area, he only succeeded in getting his finger dirty.

"Don't touch that." Midnite snapped, surprising John out of his curiosity.

He stood up quickly and put his hand behind his back, "I didn't"

Midnite eyed him suspiciously, "Come here."

John walked over, rubbing his hands on his silk pants. Midnite held out an envelope and a large folded paper.

"Some friends are holding a package for me. I want you to go and get it."

John looked at him. His mouth open. What ever he was expecting it wasn't this.

Midnite didn't spare him a glance, instead he was shoving some more papers at him.

"here's a plane ticket, and you're holding a map, the location is marked. Your instructions are in the envelope. I've given you six thousand dollars-"

John held up a hand. "Wait a second, where am I going? Why do I need all this. What the hell is going on?"

'It's all in the envelope Johnny-Boy." Midnite said bringing out a small back pack and putting all the paper inside, john could see clothes in there as well as a plastic flower and a toothbrush on the outside pocket.

Before John could realize what he was doing, he had pushed Midnite backwards into a statue of a cupid.

"Don't call me Johnny-boy. Ever." He said quietly, his voice hoarse with anger and resentment.

There was silence in the hall for a moment. John looked away in embarrassment. "Sor-"

Suddenly his head snapped up, his jaw cracking up into his skull. "_Don't you ever touch me." _

John spluttered his hand clutching at his throat, he was being dragged upwards by his bottom teeth. He couldn't talk only choke.

"Do you understand me _Johnny-Boy_?"

John couldn't nod but the hold on his throat eased a little.

"You leave now, there's a cab outside waiting for you and I want you to wear this." He pulled out a necklace with a silver triangle surrounded by a blue stone circle.

He yanked it over John's head, pulling the leather cord tight around his neck.

"Don't disappoint me Johnny-Boy."

John collapsed onto the floor, taking deep panting breaths. The door to the club slammed closed, a little blur of violet silk fluttering around the corner.

John scrambled to his feet, massaging his jaw, He grabbed the backpack next to him and followed midnight, kicking the strange wooden table as he went.

"Fine, but I'm going to buy some real pants." he muttered to the hall, and he spit on the shiny white marble tiles.

"You'll wear what's in the bag." Midnite's disembodied voice told him from the doors of the club.

Cursing John walked in and out of the club, not once looking towards the bar. It was pouring outside but there was a cab outside, as promised.

And John had a plane to catch.

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_**P**__**lease review, I've almost given up! I would be indebted forever and ever if you would just click that button, the next chapter I write will be determined on the number of reviews I receive.**_


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